


Times Like This

by Schmidt1012



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Benny Lives, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Crossover, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Demogorgon (Stranger Things) - Freeform, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Man of Letters Scott Clarke, Mild Language, Minor Benny Hammond/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Minor Spoilers, Post-Episode: s13e19 Funeralia, Protective Dean Winchester, Time Travel, because of the ST kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmidt1012/pseuds/Schmidt1012
Summary: "The Book of the Damned is a spell book for creating or undoing any kind of damnation there is."-- Charlie BradburyAfter convincing Rowena to help them find Gabriel, Sam and Dean had found themselves solving a case that turned out to be caused by a nest of vampires. The hunt ended badly when the vampires had successfully turned Sam into one of them.Desperate to save his brother, Dean learned from Rowena that there's a chance doing the impossible, curing Vampirism, only one of the ingredients was really rare. Rare enough for Dean to travel back in time.Now at Hawkins, Indiana, Dean was ready to behead the monster until he met a diner owner, whose name was Benny, who was in big trouble. Whatever the consequences the future might face from his action,  Dean would take all responsibility. After letting his old friend down, he couldn't let this other Benny die while he's around.A supposed time travel, milk run hunt that had Dean remembering things from the past.***Set right after Season 13 Episode 19 (Funeralia) and follows the events in Stranger Things season 1.





	1. CoverArt

 


	2. Sliver of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first crossover fusion and I'm very excited to share this. :D
> 
> \---
> 
> Mistakes are all mine.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Sam. You hear me?” Dean said with a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder, trying to reassure not only Sam but also himself, but his own voice was giving away how worried he really was. “I got you.”

Knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, Dean thought that it had been a long time since he singlehandedly slaughtered a nest of vampires, leaving the place reeking with blood and death, and that was when he still got the Mark of Cain. Now, he did it again and did not regret any of it. Those fuckers deserved it after everything they did to Sam.

Closing his eyes, Dean debated if he needed to cuff his brother. Even though Sam was known to be the calmer one, Dean wasn’t sure if his brother could control himself with his state. But cuffing Sam would only question his trust towards his brother, and he didn’t want that. He wanted Sam to trust him even he himself was having second thoughts of their situation.

 _Come on, Dean, think_. Clutching the cold cuffs in his hand, his eyes snapped open when he remembered what might trigger his brother’s _impulse_. Quickly, he removed his blood-soaked layers - his favorite jacket was now ruined - and inspected if one of the vampires got him. _Nothing, good_. Dean sighed with relief when he found nothing in his body, not even a scratch.

Dean didn’t know what to do next. What he witnessed had his heart clenching so hard he could die, unconscious Sam being force-fed with blood. If memory served him right, Vampirism didn’t have a cure. Well, it could be reversed if the said vampire still hadn’t fed yet. But those fuckers… damn it… just thinking about what he had witnessed got him all nauseous.

Having no memory of the carnage, he just knew he kept swinging his machete with ease as though he was only breathing, and one by one, the vampires dropped on the floor like flies, headless. Minus the fear of Sam turning into a vampire, there's something about the raw sensation of beheading those bloodsuckers that felt too close to home. Not that killing monsters was a norm, for him as a hunter, but a memory he had buried deep inside his head had clawed its way back into the surface.

_Pure._

Inside the safety of their bunker, Dean collected the ingredients he needed for the cure with shaking hands. Maybe, just maybe, Vampirism needed time to finalize the change, a chance to save his brother from the second set of teeth, from the never-ending hunger, and from the unfair immortality robbing their well-deserved rest.

“Winchester, what are you doing?” Rowena said, announcing her presence with a jolly tone. “Garlic… sage…”

“Saving my brother.” Plucking the sage from the witch’s slim fingers and tossing it into his concoction, Dean said with a huff.

“From what?” After opening the jar containing vampire’s blood, carefully, Rowena closed its lid and walked towards Sam, hand touching the younger Winchester’s arm. Too knowledgeable for her own good, she asked. “From being a vampire? I don’t think you -”

“Shut up.” Dean cut off, not wanting to hear any more of it. Hearing it would make it all real, that he couldn’t save Sam. First, his Mom and Jack were trapped in some alternate reality, Gabriel was gone, and now Sam turned into a vampire. Everything's falling apart, and what had been keeping him sane was the chance of curing his brother, until the old hag showed herself, saying he couldn’t save Sam.

“I really like to prove myself to Samuel – to change my fate, so you listen to me, you buffoon.” The redhead pointed an unwavering finger at Dean, voice all threatening but in a motherly kind of way that had Dean listening intently at her. “What I was saying is you got the ingredients wrong.”

“What do you mean wrong? Wait,” Dean’s hand stopped reaching from the jar of blood. “You know something, didn’t you?”

“Well, I might have read something…”

Circling the table, Dean towered Rowena with his height and looked down on the witch with pleading eyes. Of course, if there's someone who could help him save his brother, it would be Rowena, the century-year-old witch, one of the most powerful. “Is it a spell, a reverse spell?”

“Oh, look at you, Winchester, all desperate and… _needy._ ” Rowena teased as she cupped Dean’s face with her hands, softly slapping one of the cheeks. “And yes, it’s a spell, but better than reversing Sam’s condition.”

As it turned out, Rowena had read in the Book of the Damned that there’s a spell concerning purifying souls. And the book had stated that monsters’ souls were tainted, an abomination, or _broken goods_ , the very reason they didn’t belong to either Heaven or Hell. Though the procedure and incantations of the said spell were simple, Rowena truthfully informed that she was unfamiliar with the main ingredient, the _Blood of first creation_.

Sharing the same objective, to save Sam, Rowena left to gather the rest of the ingredients they needed while Dean stayed behind to watch over Sam while hitting the books.

At some point, Sam woke up with a blaring headache, saying he could _hear_ everything, from the leaking faucet, the low hum of electricity, and _blood_.

After being a hunter for so long, the hair on his back was screaming danger at him, knowing Sam was now a vampire, but there's something stronger than his own instinct that told him that it's just Sam, his baby brother, that there's no threat around him. Besides, he’d been with Benny, who’s a vampire, for a long time and things were good between them. Better than good actually, until…

Shrugging off the memories buried in the past, Dean asked him to rest a little more but Sam was having none of that, instead, he grabbed a book and started doing his thing - researching.

No matter how hard Sam tried to hide it, Dean knew – he just knew – that his brother was brooding, blaming himself for being so careless and having them stuck in this predicament. But Dean didn’t comment on it, like always – Winchester style. No need to add salt to the injury. In fact, it’s no one’s fault that the actual culprit of the attacks was a nest of vampires, trying to increase their numbers by quickly turning their victims after feeding on them.

Now that they got a lead, that Sam’s condition was reversible, Dean could finally breathe, brain informing him that the last time he ate was eighteen hours ago.

“Hey, Sam.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, eyes peeking above the book he was reading.

“I’ll just grab us a _bite_ ," Dean said, trying to lighten up the mood and was rewarded by Sam’s snort and a slow shake of his head. “Just… do your thing, okay. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Walking towards the darkest corner of the bunker’s garage, Dean stopped in front an old pick-up truck his good friend used to own, _Benny_. It’s been a while since he last saw the piece of junk, but it seemed like it was only yesterday when he brought it to the bunker because leaving it behind to rust felt wrong. The truck might be an eyesore but it contained every worldly possession his old friend had, and he needed to borrow one of them, Benny’s transport cooler.

As he opened the cabin of the truck, he was greeted by a dirty sleeping bag and empty blood bags. After everything, he just noticed that he hadn’t clean the truck since he brought it there. Were they really _that_ busy for him to forget? Or he just couldn’t afford reminiscing anymore. Whatever it was, Dean tried not to care. There’s no point to think of someone who would never come back, plus it would be emotionally taxing for him and he couldn’t allow it now… or ever. He’d lost too much and earned so little.

 _Huh_. He thought after retrieving the cooler. Benny didn’t have much, the too hard sleeping bag, cooler, a few spare of clothes and neatly folded pea coat, a torn picture of his niece - Elizabeth, and shades. He couldn’t remember the reason why, but he had kept his friend’s hat in one of his drawers. Down at Purgatory, Benny had nothing but his weapon, but topside, he literally had nothing… only Dean, his friend... but Dean himself let his friend struggle on his own because of Sam.

 _Sam.._. _Right_...

Quickly, Dean closed the truck bed and jogged towards the Impala with Benny’s cooler clutched in his hand, his brother need blood.

 

* * *

 

With a cooler full of donated blood bags, Dean returned with his own food and some groceries, ready to explain to his brother that the blood was not _technically_ stolen. But knowing Sam, his brother would probably not drink the blood - or even touch it, just to prove that his resolve was stronger than the bloodlust. Hell, Sam might even ask him to bring animal blood instead, like a hippie he was – vampire or not.

“Sammy.”

“Here,” Sam hollered with a hint of excitement in his voice. Dean could already feel that his brother had found something.

“Any luck?” Dean tried, not keeping his hopes up even though he could feel that Sam really had found something. Placing the cooler on top of the table with all the books Sam had read, Dean went to the kitchen to store the groceries and waited for Sam’s answer.

“Yeah. The Book of the Damned said that we needed the blood of first creation, right? The first thing that came to me was leviathan’s blood; they’re God’s first creation after all. But…”

"But what – _sonofabitch_!” Dean jumped when he saw Sam standing beside him without hearing him walk. “Walk louder next time, Sam.” Hand on his chest, he said while composing himself.

Castiel sneaking behind him was enough to give him a heart attack. And he wouldn’t let Sam with his new vampire _traits_ join the list of people he should be aware of. Hell, one twinkle-toes stalking in the bunker was enough, adding another one would only double his chances of dying with a heart attack that was not caused by his greasy food.

If the spell turned out to be successful, Sam being a vampire would only be temporary. _It’s not going to last, Dean, it’s only temporary._ Dean repeated in his head.

“A research journal here about origins of monsters, written by Scott Clarke, stated that the blood of first creation has varieties, in which they needed for a purifying spell.”

“What _varieties_?”

“Well, he wrote that an alpha werewolf’s first generation of children had a unique characteristic in their blood compared to the other generation of werewolves, that’s why those werewolves were called purebloods, their ‘DNA’ was pure. To prove that his theory was right, he also tested it with other monsters like shifters and vampires, and he had discovered more, that all alphas have the blood of first creation too, not just the purebloods. He also had written in the last part of his journal that all alphas came from one DNA or creator – Eve, the mother of all.”

“So… we just need some blood from some alpha or pureblood monsters?”

“Yeah.”

“And you got all that from Clarke’ journal?” Sam nodded. “Well, I don’t know about the purebloods but did you forget that we -”

“Killed the alphas, yeah, I know.” Sam supplied. “So, I researched more and found something.”

Dean had to put a hand on Sam’s shoulder to stop him from bouncing; Sam being giddy looked a little unsettling now that they’re both old. “And what’s that?”

“The blood we need can be harvested to different sources, as long as it was created by higher beings like deities or gods from different beliefs. Remember the gods from an alternate reality?”

“Who?”

“Glythur and Yokoth? Seal of Solomon? You remember now?”

“Ah, you mean those tentacle bastards.”

“Yeah. Well, they have children – the faceless hordes, right. So, I’d say -”

“Okay, I got to stop you right there, Sam.” Dean raised a hand. “Not that I’m being pessimistic here or anything, but if the men of letters back then couldn’t kill them, how in the world is it possible for us to harvest their _children_ ’s blood. Not to mention Gabriel, who we need to open the rift. I know you don’t want to be a vampire anymore but we still need to save Mom, Jack, and everyone with them, we can’t save them if we’re dead, Sam. So, why not just hunt the other deities, huh.”

True, he wanted to cure Sam badly, but knowing that there’s actually a way to cure Vampirism, there’s no need for them to rush. Besides, the people in the alternate universe also needed their help; maybe they could actually use Sam’s new strength and speed fighting the angels.

“I know you’re going to say that.” Sam scoffed with a smile on his face before carding his hair back and Dean couldn’t help looking at Sam’s gum. “And as I was saying before you interrupted me, is that we go back in time.”

“Go back in what?” Dean asked, his brain couldn’t believe what he just heard from Sam. He was expecting to kill another monster to harvest the blood, but time traveling? Really? To where? The time before Sam got ambushed? Wouldn’t that change the ripples of time Castiel always say?

“We go back in time. You know, time traveling.”

“I heard what you said. But back where and when?” Dean couldn’t believe he’s entertaining Sam’s idea. It’s crazy, and the floor had started to move under his feet. Maybe he's just dreaming that Sam turning into a vampire was just a harmless dream. None of this was real, a side effect of traveling through an alternate universe, or a hallucination caused by his own hunger.

“November 6, 1983. Hawkins, Indiana.”

 _Sonofabitch, that’s specific._ Dream or not, Dean couldn’t decide, he’s too hungry to think straight. He should’ve had eaten something before talking to his brother about this, to have some energy to absorb the information Sam was throwing at him. _Looks like I’m hungrier than Sam. Awesome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there were mistakes, please give me a heads up (I will appreciate it a lot).
> 
> Thank you for reading. :D


	3. Blood for a Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judging by the date in Stranger Things ep. 1 (November 6, 1983) and the effect of the Blood Sigil, can you guess who will have a short "appearance" in this chapter? :D
> 
> \---
> 
> Mistakes are all mine.

“So let me get this straight. You want us to go back in time like Marty Mcfly?” Sam nodded. “And why is that again?” Dean really couldn’t understand what had gotten with his brother. _Going back in time?_ He knew sometimes Sam was unpredictable, but time traveling? That’s Vampirism talking, the hormones, thrill, and the urge for an adventure. He’d been there.

His time being a vampire might be short, but he had felt everything, something that opened his mind what it really meant to be _hungry_. The painful insatiable hunger that could cloud anyone’s judgment was the fine line between being a human and a monster. Control it – suppress – and then you’re the one in charge of your body. But one wrong decision meant someone’s death.

Whatever was happening in Sam’s head, Dean should be cautious. Sam’s just recently turned, so it’s possible that he still couldn’t control it. Hell, his brother was once addicted to demon blood, in exchange for power. But it’s all in the past now. What they’re facing now was different. And all Dean could do for now was to trust his brother, the very foundation of their relationship - trust. Even most of the people around him had lied to him.

“Because of Scott Clarke, the one who wrote the about origins of monsters, Dean.” Turning on his heels, Sam waved a hand at Dean, asking him to follow, and walk towards his opened laptop. “Look here.”

Still unsure of what did Sam meant about Scott Clarke and time traveling, Dean stood behind his brother and looked at the screen. There, a picture of a man with a mustache was standing behind a group of children, four boys and two girls, who were holding a trophy – 1st Place.

“Is that Clarke, the one who wrote the journal? For someone too old, he looks younger than I’ve imagined. You think he’s using some de-aging mojo Rowena is using? And why is the date is _1985_ when you said 1983?”

Taking a deep breath, Sam answered all of Dean’s questions and explained that he wasn’t sure if the man in the photo was the _real_ Clarke. And that one of the kids in the picture, Michael Wheeler, wrote a book and dedicated it to their beloved science teacher and their friend _who lived_ , William Byers.

The book looked like a diary or journal of some sort at first that tells a story of three boys finding their missing friend with a help from a girl with psychokinetic and telepathic abilities. And what piqued Sam’s interest in the book were the references of different sci-fi and adventure books, the place where Byers was trapped, and the monster the kids were trying to defeat.

“The Upside Down,” Sam started reading the quotes in the book, “or the Veil of Shadows: is an alternate reality or an echo --”

“Echo of our world.” Dean finished, shocking himself and Sam. The names sounded familiar to him because of the board games Charlie had tried to teach him when they’re dorking out together, a long time ago. Looking back, he remembered the alternate Charlie who chose to stay behind with Ketch. When they’re finished with the alternate angels wanting to take over their reality, he would like to bring Charlie and everyone back with him. “It’s _D &D_, Sam.”

“Okay,” Sam only shrugged, not batting an eye on Dean’s free time activities. “The book, Stranger Things, says that the Upside Down is being ruled by a shadow monster or the _Mind Flayer_.” Pointing at the screen, Sam showed his brother a sketch of the said smoke monster that looked vaguely familiar to them. “See these tentacles, tendrils, or vines?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks familiar, right?”

“Glythur?” Touching his neck, Dean guessed and remembered how Glythur’s mate, Yokoth, had tricked them. Damn, those tentacles almost touched him while he’s strapped on a table, the fucker wanted to use his body as a vessel. “You think…”

“I’m not really sure, Dean.” Sam quickly answered. “But look here, the author had stated that when his friend made contact with it, a year after escaping the Upside Down, _Will_ went through some changes, he was being mind controlled or _possessed_. And the Mind Flyer used him as a spy in our world.”

“Possessed, huh, you mean like what happened to Sandy Porter?”

“Well, yes and no," Sam said while skimming through the pages. "Yes, because the Mind Flyer was controlling Will at some point, saying that the smoke monster wanted to kill everyone and took over our world, like the goal of Glythur and Yokoth. And no because apparently, they had found a way to expel it from its host, Will.”

Dean still couldn’t get it, why would Sam want to travel back in time just because of some kid’s book, who was obviously obsessed with D&D. Scott Clarke and the tentacles were only a coincidence. Hell, if any of the information in the book were indeed legit, then why were they only seeing it now?

“So,” Dean started. Fuck, what he was about to say felt so wrong, like agreeing to time travel. And how were they going to kill the thing, it’s huge. “How are we going to kill this thing?”

"We're not," Sam said without looking at Dean. “This is the one we’ll be hunting.” Enlarging the image, Sam turned to show Dean an image of a faceless humanoid monster, his eyes full of determination. “The Demogorgon.”

“Why?”

“Remember the faceless horde?”

“Yeah, the children of…” Dean trailed off. Finally, he understood what his brother meant. Everything clicked from Clarke, gods from the different reality, the tentacles, the mind control, and faceless monster. Suddenly, everything Sam had said make sense. “You mean.” Sam nodded. “What if this is the wrong monster, Sam.” Planting his ass on one of the chairs, Dean couldn’t help feel tired, defeated. He wanted to cure Sam, but wasting time would only risk the lives of their Mom and everyone.

“Then it’s the wrong monster, Dean. I’m just saying that this is the best shot we’ve got. The tentacle gods who almost got you lived in an alternate reality, the Mind Flyer lives in the Upside Down, an alternate reality, and both entities have children who have no faces.”

Closing his eyes, Dean nodded his agreement. Sam put an effort researching about the stuff. _How long was I out shopping?_ He couldn’t help but ask himself, brows knitting in confusion. “So, how are we going to kill this sonofabitch?”

With that, Sam showed Dean a detailed part of the book where there were timestamps of events. Sam explained that the cause of William Byers’ disappearance was the Demogorgon, that they needed to go back the day before Byers disappeared and gank the monster in which Dean disagreed.

“We can’t change the past, Sam, and you know that.”

“We’re not. We’ll let the monster take Byers, so every event in the past will occur, and we’ll lure the monster out using blood.”

 _Blood_.

“Why blood?” He couldn’t do it. A newly turned vampire Sam exposed with a bleeding Dean? No fucking way. Benny once told him that his blood smelled irresistible like it's an incarnation of sin itself, and it "smells better than it tastes", making it harder for the vampire to control himself. How his and Benny conversation strayed to that topic would be one of Dean’s deepest darkest secrets. Hell, Sam didn’t even know what really his relationship with Benny was, the same Benny who he had sacrificed to save Sam.

“They’re attracted to blood, and it’s already proven to be true by Byers’ sister.”

“We’ll lure it with blood then. Awesome.” Dean said with an unsure smile while giving Sam a thumbs-up, mind already thinking of what would be Sam’s reaction if he suggested doing it alone – Sam staying behind.

While preparing for _their_ little trip, Rowena came back with the ingredients they needed for the spell. Now that Dean had eaten and his brain was functioning better, the thought of leaving a powerful witch behind their bunker filled with knowledge and secrets of the world entered his mind, and it would be problematic.

Rowena only had two powerful magical spell books, the Book of the Damned and the Black Grimoire, and she had caused a great change in the ripples of reality by killing grim reapers. Now an archive full of unknown magic would make her even more powerful, another reason for Sam to stay in the bunker. Besides, all of Rowena’s possible deaths would be on his hands anyway.

“What are you boys doing?” Rowena said while placing the ingredients on the table – _an Egyptian blue lotus flower – picked from the Jordan River, ashes of a white dove,_ and _tears of the innocent_.

“We’ve figured out where we could get the blood, so we decided -”

“- decided that I’ll go back in time to take it - alone.” Dean finished, earning him a disbelieving gasp from Sam. “Stop that, Sam. This is not courtroom drama.”

“What do you mean ‘alone’, Dean?”

“It means I’ll go _alone_. Come on, you said that a teenage girl had killed one of those things. If a girl could handle herself, then bringing you with me would be overkill, Sam. I can do it alone. Besides, you guys still need to track our archangel.”

The way Sam’s clenched jaw relax, Dean figured he just said the right thing. If there’s someone who could convince Gabriel, it would be Sam, even with his _problem_. Time efficient. They’re being time efficient. And it’s good with their limited time to save everyone from the other reality.

“Are you sure about this, Dean?” Sam asked while carefully setting the cooler full of blood on the table, his duffle bag slipping from his shoulder.

“Come on, Sam, we’re always unsure about a lot of things we do, we just… do it.” Zipping up his own duffle bag, Dean contemplated if his machete would be enough or he should bring another magazine for his gun to slow the Demogorgon down. “Just let me handle this one while you two find Gabriel, huh.”

 _Borax... Do I need borax?_ Dean asked himself, wondering if Leviathan's weakness would work against the Demogorgon, or if ever the Leviathan or Demorgon was the same species. _Nah, I’ll just buy it there._

“So,” Rowena said while squeezing herself between the brothers. “You two planned to go back in time, and judging by the bags, I get that you’d already decided to leave tonight – without talking to me. Am I not in your team? Do I even have any say on this?”

“Of course you’re in our team.” Dean groaned. It seemed like Rowena could replace Sam from being a drama queen, a trait Crowley sometimes display. _Huh, look at that. Like mother like… son, apparently_. “Now give us a hand to modify the blood sigil. Sam will tell you the exact date.”

“That’s so typical of you, Winchester.” Rowena scoffed but started walking towards the hall where their supply room was located, her voices echoing in the bunker. “One of these days, you hear me, one of these days; you better let me have my fun with Samuel.”

Well, that was easy. Dean thought he needed to argue with the redhead and use his prove-yourself-to-Sam trump card. Speaking of Sam, his brother's eyes were wide and his skin was losing its color… wait… Sam's a vampire, being pale was supposed to be normal. It seemed like his brother was not a fan of him whoring him away.

“What?” Dean shrugged. There might be too many problems on their plate, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t mess around anymore. “It’s just a date, Sam.”

“Are you kidding me?”

 

* * *

 

As his blood started to drip from his palm into the bowl with the rest of the ingredients he needed to travel back in time, Dean noticed how Sam’s composure had changed - eyes were blown wide, nostrils flared, and sweats beading on his forehead. Even though his brother had just drunk two blood bags, he could see Sam was really struggling to control himself.

“Not looking good there, Sammy.” Dean teased while wrapping his hand securely with a bandage, still keeping his distance from Sam. Turning his attention to Rowena, he asked. “How long would it take for my soul to fully recover, for me to use this again?”

“A week, max. You know the incantations, right?” Dean nodded. “Good. Now take these.” Placing a small bottle with a piece of paper in Dean’s hand, Rowena said before crossing her arms. “It’s Sam’s blood. Use that instead of yours while following the instructions there when you’ve decided to go back, same incantations.”

“Sam’s blood... Follow instructions... Same incantations… _Copy that_.” Dean noted while picking up his bag. “Come here, Sammy.” Spreading his arms, he invited Sam for a hug goodbye.

“I don’t think – _oof_.” Arms stiff on either side of his body, hesitant to hug his big brother back, a puff of air escaped Sam’s mouth when Dean hugged him tight. “See you next week.”

“Yeah, just find the Gabriel – our portal juice – and do whatever it takes to convince him.” Letting go of his brother, Dean turned his attention to Rowena. “This spell would bring me back a day before the events, right?”

“Yes. November 5, 1983.”

Giving his brother one last nod, Dean started drawing the sigil while reciting its incantation. “ _Kah-nee-lah… Poo-goh. Kah-nee-lah… Poo-goh._ ” The blood on the wall glowed golden, warm light shining from the sigil started to surround Dean’s body. “ _Kah-nee-lah… Poo-goh.”_ After completing the sigil, a burst of light swallowed Dean and little by little he faded. _“Kah-nee-lah… Poo-goh._ ”

With a thud, Dean fell out of a closet and was greeted by ashes and smell of burned wood. Bracing himself from the time travel nausea, his eyes tried to adjust at the dim lighting of the room, but the blinding light a second ago was making it hard for him to do so. Oddly, the charred place was looked familiar but Dean couldn't put his finger on it how, blaming the darkness and the whiplash that didn't happen.

Picking up his fallen bag on the dirty floor, Dean heard a muffled cry coming somewhere in the house. Carefully, he walked towards the window, thinking maybe he could use it to escape. As it turned out, he was on the second floor. _Awesome_. He could jump if he wanted to, but he needed both of his legs in this hunt.

“ _Mary… I’m so sorry._ ”

Even though it’s barely a whisper, the quietness of the house amplified the voice coming in the next room, making it possible for Dean to hear it loud and clear.

_Mary?_

A little confused, he walked out the door but quickly hide back in when saw a small figure climbing up the stairs. Patiently, he listened to the soft footsteps and waited for the kid to enter the room where he was hiding, instinct screaming to jump out the window. _Not good, Dean… not good._ The door next room opened with a soft click and the sound of an adult male crying drowned the silence of the house.

 _Grief_. That’s the only way Dean could describe it - grief, the pain of losing someone you truly love. Hell, he’d done it plenty of times. Everyone in his family had died. His precious friends had died. Everyone special to him was all gone, the perfect description of his life, their family, death. But luckily for him, if ever Dean actually counted it as lucky, some of his family had returned, their Mom, Castiel – who’s brought back way too many times, and the alternate version of his family – Bobby and Charlie.

The sobs heart-wrenchingly coming out from the man had somehow affected him, tears suddenly started to fall on his cheeks. He’d heard it before when he’s younger, as a kid. And he’s sure he’d heard it a couple of times in his dreams while they’re stuck in some dingy motel while being on a hunt, accompanied by the strong smell of scotch.

“Dad?” The kid asked, hesitant and worried at the same time.

“Dean, what are doing here?” For someone who’s crying, the man’s voiced didn’t crack. “Go back to your brother.”

 _Dean_.

Leaning his back on the wall, Dean took a shaky breath to compose himself. He forgot. He _fucking_ forgot. How come he forgot? _November 2, 1983… Mary Winchester died on a ‘house fire’_. The blood sigil had brought him three days after the death of their Mom - November 5. And he’s inside of their old house, at Lawrence, Kansas, no wonder it looked and felt familiar. His memories rushing back in waves.

 _Dad._ It was John who’s grieving in the other room, his Dad, the real John Winchester, and not the hunter that’s toughened up by the harsh reality of this world – monsters, and demons. Dean had forgotten this night, but now, he remembered everything like it was only yesterday, the tears, apologies, regrets, and pain of losing Mary. And the night their life had turned upside-down.

“Why are you crying, Dad? Are you hurt?”


	4. Memories of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaching Hawkins, Indiana, Dean realized he had no plans at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer. I spoiled myself with a few books and something happened irl.
> 
> \---
> 
> Mistakes are all mine.

_“Why are crying, Dad? Are you hurt?”_

Dean mouthed the words as though it was coming from him and waited for his father’s answer. It’s futile though. He already knew what would be John’s response – _silence and denial_. His father would hide behind this strong-man façade that could face anything, hoping his boys would never see his pain, but sometimes it would be hard for John to hide his emotions. And those times were the times John was drunk.

 _Huh._ Dean mentally scoffed while wiping his eyes using his sleeves, mouth twitching up; he picked up his self-destructive coping mechanism from John, bottling up his emotions and drinking his problems away, thinking it might go away if he ignored it long enough. _Yeah, that sounds about right._

With practiced stealth, Dean passed the room where the two Winchesters were. Thanks to the lights coming from the street, his eyes caught the silhouette of John hugging his younger version tightly, shoulders trembling with emotion he didn’t know back then. Yes, he too grieved when he’s young. In fact, he thought he took the loss the hardest. But now, after hearing his Dad weep first hand, what he once believed turned out to be wrong. Hell, John had changed because of Mary’s death, dragging him into this bottomless pit of revenge.

Thinking about it now, John had trained and indoctrinated them to hunt monsters – to save people, the family business. They’ve been saving people all this time, but he and Sam didn’t notice who needed saving the most, their father. No matter how Sam looked at John, for him, John was a hero. True, John might not win the best father award, but he did his best, damn it. If only Sam would understand.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, mixing with the sound of choked sobs, Dean heard little Dean said between sniffles. "Don't cry anymore, Dad." Of course, his father didn't answer, he just hugged him tighter. He could almost feel his father's strong phantom arms wrapped around him, the way his father shaky breath hit his ears, and the way his body tremble. "Promise me."

“I promise.” John finally said before silence filled the empty house again. “I promise, Dean.”

True to his words, John didn’t cry around his sons, while being sober of course. But when he did, Dean was always there to help him because those were the moments where John was vulnerable, talking about Mary, how proud he was of his sons, and how sorry he was for everything – for dragging them in the dark with him.

_If only Sam would understand._

Closing the front door with a click, Dean was greeted by the crisp night breeze. Finally, he could breathe. The sadness wafting in the house was suffocating, he didn’t need it now, that feeling would only make this hunt harder. Even if he wanted to help John, nothing could save them from the pain that was meant to happen. Hell, the great Chuck had written it in the prophecy; they’re all puppets that had roles to play. And Team free will wasn’t a thing yet.

A few steps away from the porch, there, their family heirloom parked peacefully outside – the 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Hand touching the roof of his future baby, Dean marveled at the beauty of the car in her prime, something that distracted him from the earlier moments. Black and slick. It’s easy to steal it but it’s all that's left of John. He needed another vehicle. Forcing himself not to kiss the Impala goodbye, he crossed the street and opted to _borrow_ their old neighbor’s car.

 _It’s going to be a long night._ He thought as he tried to push down the unwanted emotion building in his guts. There’s a time and place for everything, and now’s not the time for reminiscing. His Dad was now resting peacefully in heaven after clawing his way out from hell, that stubborn sonofabitch. Safe from the pain and sadness he went through, enjoying his well-deserved rest.

With his nimble fingers, he jimmied the ugly light green car and slid inside.

_Goodnight, Dad._

 

* * *

 

“That’ll be three dollars, sir.” The cashier said with a tired, welcoming smile. For a small town, the convenient store seemed to have almost everything, ranging from candy bars to gardening tools, so finding a box of borax was easy.

Dean had rented a room in some surprisingly clean motel just outside of town and had slept for a few hours after his long drive. Now that his anti-monster stuff was sort of complete, he should be ready to plan how to gank the monster without fucking up the events that were supposed to happen. Every decision he’d make here would surely affect the future. _Temporal paradoxes, Dean_. Castiel’s speech about the fluidity of time rang in his head like a broken record.

He’d done this a couple of times, going back in time, so he’s familiar with the rules. Only he didn’t know when would be the perfect moment to jump on the Demogorgon. Killing it before kidnapping Byers would cause a ripple – or a tidal wave – in the passage of time, so that’s a big no-no. But if he let the monster kidnap the kid, then the next attack would be… _Sonofabitch_. Dean cursed. He couldn’t think properly with an empty stomach.

The next attack would be unpredictable.

Fishing out his wallet, he paid for his cleaning detergent and asked. “Hi, _Joyce_.” He squinted to read the nametag pinned in the cashier’s uniform. “I’m new in town. Can you recommend a place where there’s good food?”

“That depends on your definition of _good_ food, sir," Joyce said as she folded her arms over her chest. “There’s a bakery just across the street, a few blocks from here there’s a restaurant, but if you want somewhere quiet there’s this great burger joint in Randolph Lane.”

“Burgers, huh? Where’s that again?”

“Just north from here and take a right. It’s really hard to miss.”

A short drive later, Dean parked his second stolen car in front of the diner, with a small smile on his face. The mouth-watering smell of grilled meat coming from the joint attacked his nostrils violently. _Fuck, now that’s what I call food._ The greasy goodness was calling his name like a moth to a flame.

_Huh, Benny’s Burgers._

His Benny – Benny Lafitte – used to work in a diner with his great-granddaughter. And once upon a time, Benny had taught him how to cook, nothing fancy but enough to impress his brother.

When he and Sam got settled in the bunker five years ago, Sam made this bewildered look when Dean fixed him a home-cooked dinner, the first time since forever. The last place they had called home back then was Bobby’s, and while they live there, Bobby was the one in charge of cooking, afraid that one of them might burn his house. Because of that, Sam was curious where he had learned how to use seasonings other than salt and pepper. He couldn’t blame his not-so-little brother though. And honestly, even he himself couldn’t believe he knew the difference of cayenne pepper, paprika, and chili powder.

“Afternoon, stranger.” A big guy with an unkempt beard greeted as Dean climbed off of the car. “Are you lost or hungry?”

“Starving," Dean said with an honest smile, judging by the apron snuggly wrapped around the man’s waist, he figured that the burly man worked there. “I heard you serve great burgers here.”

“Great? Well, I don’t want to sound immodest or anything but it’s the best in the whole state, I tell you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Dean couldn’t put his finger on it but he found himself relaxing around this bear of a man. Maybe it’s the kind smile underneath the beard or the softness of his voice. Whatever it was, who’s he to deny a good company? The man’s just doing his job, being polite to the customer.

“Can I get another cup of coffee here, Benny?” A customer hollered inside.

“Yeah, yeah.” _Benny_ dismissed.

“So you own this place, huh?” Dean asked as he passed the man - who’s as tall as Sam - in the doorway and slowly beelined towards a corner booth, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, fries, and burgers was more appetizing now that he’s inside. And cliché as it was, there’s a jukebox playing some upbeat 80s song.

“Yeah, pretty much. So, uh, you some coffee too while waiting? Or you want a beer?”

“Coffee’s good, thanks.”

Dean had seen it coming with wide eyes. And his first instinct was to duck, but he didn’t. He let this Benny clap him on his shoulder with his big calloused hand before walking towards the coffee machine.

Weirdly, the warmth of Benny’s hand still linger even after Benny had served him coffee and now working to fix him his order, a reassuring presence heavy on his clothed skin. It’s been a while since he let some stranger touch him like that, and the friendly gesture both felt foreign and familiar at the same time. As someone who’s not a fan of physical contact, it should bother him like crazy. But he’s not. And there’s something blooming in his guts that could probably explain why, but Dean quickly crushed it like it’s a can of worm he couldn’t afford to open right now.

 _Sam and Cas._ Dean thought. His brother and Castiel was the answer. Those two important people in his life had worn him down, tearing down the walls he tried to build around himself as a protection. But protection from what exactly? Lost? Hurt? The big, four-lettered L word he couldn’t even say in his head? He wasn’t really sure himself.

After a long three minute wait, Benny served him this plainest looking burger he had ever seen with a proud smile. The smell was really promising but the appearance was underwhelming. _Best in the whole state my ass_. With an honest bite, Dean stuffed his face with the burger. And sweet mother of Chuck, people shouldn’t judge a burger by its bun, because it’s probably the best thing Dean had ever put in his mouth, burger-wise. The juicy meat, the crispy bacon, the unique sauce and the melted cheese were dancing harmoniously in his mouth, flavor bursting like fireworks during the fourth of July.

“You really are enjoying that, huh.” Benny, who lingered to watch Dean’s reaction, said with a smirk when a scandalizing moan escaped Dean’s mouth that shouldn’t be heard outside a bedroom. “Don’t hold yourself back, buddy, there’s a lot where that came from.”

Dean didn’t feel and he couldn’t care less when Benny clapped his shoulder again before entertaining one of his regulars, leaving him alone to enjoy his food to the fullest. He’s in the zone. The world could end itself right here, right now, and Dean wouldn’t move an inch. Burgers like this were his Archimedes' heel. If Benny asked him to bend over, he wouldn't mind, as long as Benny would be willing to cook him food.

Confusing as it was, Dean didn’t know which Benny he was thinking about – his or the other. _His._ Huh, after all these years, he still claimed Benny Lafitte as _his_ , like he’s proud of what they were back then. 

_I’m yours, Dean, as long as you want me to._

The front door opened, jerking Dean away from his treacherous thoughts, and Benny said something that sent shivers up and down his spine, something he hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Hey there, chief.” Benny greeted the man, who’s wearing a police uniform, with open arms, pulling him into his arms.

Out on the corner of his eyes, the hug lasted longer to be considered friendly, Dean noticed. Maybe with an untrained eye, the hug looked platonic, nothing special, just friends hugging. But Dean, hyperaware of everything around him, had his fair share of those kinds of hugs. Hands straying too near the waist, the subtle swaying motion as though they were dancing, small circles drawn by thumb, and the deep breaths against the neck. Yeah, he had done that.

After exchanging a few pats on their backs, the man pushed Benny away with a tight smile before sitting across his table, the corner of his eyes crinkling. _Hopper… Hawkins Police, Chief._ He read on the nameplate and badge securely pinned on the man’s uniform. _This is bad._ If ever this hunt didn’t go smoothly and he needed to stay here for a while, the last thing he needed was authorities breathing down his neck. Nosy police only meant trouble, especially this one who seemed too smart for his own good.

Speaking of plan, he still needed one. Ignoring the questioning look the chief was sending on his way, Dean finished his burger in record time with the same appetite as earlier and started plotting of what he should do that night. Now that he had eaten, planning his options to kill the monster seemed easier. Off the top of his head, he'd wait for the sonofabitch to take Byers, follow it inside the _Upside Down,_ kill it there, and use Byers as his one-way ticket home. Easy peasy. Who said he needed to think this through?

These people, probably Chief Hopper, was meant to save Byers somewhere inside the godforsaken place. Even without his help, Byers would survive on his own – it’s already written in his friend’s book, but he’s just a boy. Dean wouldn’t let the faceless fucker touch the kid. Besides, William Byers kind of looked like Sammy when his kid brother was at that age, who’s also a nerd. His big brotherly instinct was just kicking in.

Leisurely sucking the salt off his fingers after finishing his second serving of fries, the diner looked empty now that most customers had dispersed. Without the white noise of people chatting to filter the silence, the irritating sound of a broken fan seemed louder, blocking all that was left coherent from the jukebox.

Still an hour away before the sunset, Dean placed his payment, plus a generous tip, on his table before standing up, thinking maybe he should probably go and prepare for the hunt. Ready to leave, he thought of the place where the Demogorgon would appear – _Mirkwood_. There’s a map at the store earlier but after inspecting it, he gathered that it was outdated, because the Randolph Lane was not even there yet.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Dean said to Benny while pointing at the noisy fan. He shouldn’t waste his time fixing the thing but he needed information about the location of Mirkwood, so maybe a small talk wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he still got time to spare. Only he should mind that the damn chief was still lingering in the diner, making it harder for him to ask without looking shady in this small town.

“Yeah, sure,” While clearing up a table, Benny nodded with his usual easy smile. “It would be nice if you could fix that old thing.”

After tinkering with the fan's motor and straightening the blades, Dean cleared his throat and asked with caution over his shoulder. “Say, you guys know where Mirkwood is?” To his surprise, both men looked at him skeptically as though he just said something taboo in this place. “What?”

“Mirkwood, what the hell is that?” Eyes sharp, the chief asked back, his beer frozen mid-air near his lips, a little baffled by Dean’s question.

“I think he’s talking about _The Hobbit_ , Hopper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
